


The Blood Is More Showy Than The Breath But Cannot Dance As Well

by Regret (Kachi)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kachi/pseuds/Regret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Escape isn't the same as survival, but it is the same as success.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blood Is More Showy Than The Breath But Cannot Dance As Well

The blood runs in rivulets that make their way down his loosely-hanging left hand, but he barely notices it. His attention is elsewhere, on the shapes and symbols he’s daubing on the wall above the headboard with a shaking finger. Well, almost elsewhere; he can feel her eyes boring into his back from the doorway and doesn’t need to look around to know they’d be red and swollen, tears making tracks down her cheeks and smearing the makeup she applies so subtly. He doesn’t need to look around. He doesn’t want to look around. If he looks around he’ll lose his resolve. In his last sane moment - not that she’d call it sane, but there’s little about him she’d call sane now - he’d beg her to help him but she can’t ever make it go away.

The palm of his right hand is slick with blood and his ragged breathing is harsh in his ears. He deliberately left the most difficult parts ’til last; if he’d finished with the easy stuff, sat down on the floor, his resolve would have failed him and he’d have died before he could make his successor see.

He almost falls as he climbs from the bed, light-headed, but she doesn’t make a move to help him. He was right though: her eyes are raw and his heart finally, truly, breaks. He barely even notices when his legs finally give out and he slumps back against the mattress, vital fluids starting to pool around his body. If she would just come and sit with him for the last time, it’ll all be alright.

She does. She covers one of his hands with both of hers and tries to smile. It’s an awkward expression spoiled by her trembling lips, but it’s enough to make his throat constrict with an emotion he hadn’t felt for a long time. “You- You’re-” But she can’t make the words come and, instead, she leans forward. He closes his eyes and feels her soft lips on his forehead and her cool breath on his hot skin. “Goodbye, Sixteen…”

She rests her head on his chest. For a few swift seconds they breathe in unison, a gentle dance. She always knew how to ease his pain.

He smiles as his breath steals away and the world slides into darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from comment_fic; the title is a quote from Emily Dickinson. Written before Revelations was released.


End file.
